


She's Gone

by opalmatrix



Category: Foreigner Series - C. J. Cherryh
Genre: Escape, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 00:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13283397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/pseuds/opalmatrix
Summary: She's got to get out of here.  Now.





	She's Gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nenya_kanadka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nenya_kanadka/gifts).



"We'll be back after supper. Perhaps you'll remember something about Gene by then."

The door shut behind Braddock and that woman, and Irene drew a breath. It had to be _now_.

She dug in her closet and pulled out her clothes, her _real_ clothes, made from fibers taken from animals and plants, not plastics. She got the scissors and the make-up out from under the mattress and frowned at herself in the mirror on the closet door. There was not much black eyeliner or mascara. Most of the hair had to go. It was already dark at the roots.

She took a deep breath and began to clip, snip, clip. Carefully, carefully, but as fast as she could. Time not wasted here meant time on the planet, in a room furnished in wood and cloth, with walls of stone and wood, not metal and plastic. A room with windows, outside of which were trees, leaves, flowers, _weather_ in all its terror and splendor: sun and storm, rain and wind. Air that smelled green and alive, not grey and dead.

The clippings of her bleached hair pattered lightly on the floor matting, like an early morning rain shower. _Morning_ , and the sun coming up over the trees and grass, and the smell of breads and fruit and tea in a breakfast room decorated with lovely things made by people who had died before the station was ever built.

A _real_ place. She thought the words in Ragi. A place where she could be the _real_ Irene: Reni-daja, who could ride, and identify plants, and talk about beautiful things with Lord Tatiseigi.

Her hand shook as she pulled the tiny brush out of the tube of mascara. _Stop that, young woman. You have none to waste._ Her fingers steadied at the Ragi sentences. She brushed the black liquid over the bristles that still had some gold to them. Over and over, until both tubes were empty, She used facial tissue to blot it a bit, but it still looked damp.

She dressed ever so carefully, not to get any of the black mess on her clothes. Then she bundled all the waste together and put it back under the mattress.

The apartment seemed silent. She listened the door to her room a moment longer, then eased it open. Perfect. Braddock and that woman and Irene's mother must be out getting food. _If you can call it food._

She winced at the sound the corridor door made as she opened it, but there was no one nearby to hear it. She locked the door behind her, and left.

Irene was gone.

For good.


End file.
